


The Road to Hell (Is Paved with Good Intentions)

by 100KlicksAway



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Hellhound!Derek, Human!Stiles, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, gif fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 04:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1253758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100KlicksAway/pseuds/100KlicksAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles is eight, his mother dies. When Stiles is twelve, his father dies. Stiles can't handle the death of both of his parents, so he makes a deal with a crossroads demon to bring a parent back. Ten years later, the demon sends a hellhound to take Stiles to hell.<br/>Things don't go according to plan, seeing as the hellhound falls for the human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Beginning (Things Are Not Okay)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Gif-set with hellhound!Derek](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/38416) by sher-lokied. 



> Surprise!  
> I haven't been on in a while, and apparently I'm back with YET ANOTHER fic. This one isn't going to be too long, though, and for those of you who read Streetwalker and ALBOS: Don't worry. I'm working on 'em. I'm probably going to update Streetwalker today, because I got a brilliant idea for it on my bus ride yesterday that I'm going to use. I'm a bit stuck on ALBOS, but. Eh. 
> 
> Anyway, this first chapter is like, a prologue. Short and sets the stage. Sorry for this, sorta.  
> Love y'all.
> 
> Also. Tumblr: (Because I don't know how to do the cool linky thingie): http://100klicksaway.tumblr.com/ for my regular blog and http://www.tumblr.com/blog/teenwolfschtuff for my TW one.

He remembers peeking over the counter at a local drugstore, staring at the candies on the counter. He could feel his mouth watering and the desire burned in his 8-year-old tummy. He really, _really_ wanted that lollipop. It was bigger than his face and it would be the best thing ever. He danced around his mother, tugging at her skirts as she resolutely ignored him. 

“Mommmm,” he finally whined.

“No whining, Vyacheslav,” she reprimanded gently, pulling her skirt out of his grasp.

He pouted. “Please?”

“We are not giving you any more sugar. No.”

He could feel his face crumple as he pulled away from his mother entirely. He stomped over to the opposite corner of the store, stopping by a sunglasses rack and trying them on, making faces at himself in the little mirror. The bell tinkled and Stiles paid no attention to it. He'd already forgotten about the candy with how much he was enjoying making faces.

He heard from behind him rough murmurs, loud voices, angry sounds. He'd been tuning it out, but he figured he'd pay attention, just to see what was going on.  He crept closer until he was right behind his mother. 

“-just open the goddamn safe!” a man with a mask shouted angrily. 

“I... I..” the teenage boy working behind the counter stuttered. He looked anxious and close to tears.

“Do it!” the man ordered.

The teenager looked absolutely wrecked.

The man looked around wildly before seeing Vyacheslav. The man knocked his mother to the side and grabbed Vyacheslav's arm, yanking it roughly up. Vyacheslav heard something pop and he cried out in pain. “If you don't fucking do it right the fuck now, I'm going to shoot this little kid in the fucking head!” Vyacheslav felt a cold ring of metal settle against his temple and he whimpered.

“No! Let him go!” Vyacheslav's mother cried out, lunging for him.

The robber pulled the gun away from Vyacheslav only for the time it took to shoot her. The gunshot rattle Vyacheslav to the core and he burst into tears as he saw his mother crumple to the ground. Then, the gun was on him again. “ That was all your fault.” The words struck through Vyacheslav, settling in his heart and bones and taking up residence there. 

The teenager gaped at the scene, frozen at the sight of the blood pooling onto the ground, the expression of shock and fear forever frozen on Vyacheslav's mother's face. He quickly opened the safe and stuffed all the money into a bag, giving it to the robber. “Good job. Now, to keep you silent.” The robber leveled the gun at the teenage boy and shot him in the chest. He gasped and tumbled over backward, a sick thud reverberating in Vyacheslav's chest.

“Now, little boy. You're never going to speak a word about this, or I'll come back and kill you, too,” the robber purred. He lifted the gun and smashed it across the back of Vyacheslav's head, and Vyacheslav could remember no more.

*******************

He woke in the hospital, back of his head bandaged. He felt broken. His heart ached. He looked up, where was his dad? Nobody was there and he let himself fall into tears. It  was  _his_ fault...  His mother was dead, and it was all his fault... 

 


	2. In The Middle (Things Are Getting Better)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. Update and all. I didn't have school today cos snow. Yep...  
> Planning on updating again soon, because I have this entire story plot in my head. This one chapter, though, gave me a bit of trouble. Wasn't entirely sure what to do. 
> 
> As always, follow me on tumblr:  
> http://www.tumblr.com/blog/100klicksaway  
> and my Teen Wolf blog:  
> http://www.tumblr.com/blog/teenwolfschtuff
> 
> (Someone needs to teach me how to do the linky thingie!!)

He looked up at his father defiantly. “I don't care, Dad. I don't  _want_ to do the dishes.” 

“Vyacheslav! Listen to me!” His father finally growled.

The boy froze, eyes hardening and hands balling into fists. He looked up at his father with a cool stare. “ _Don't_ call me that. You know that my name is Stiles, and that is  _it._ ”

John rubbed his face in irritation before answering. “I don't care what you want to be called, just get them done before I get home.”

Stiles glared after his father. “You more than anyone should know why I don't go by that!”

“Stop being a little brat and just listen! Your mother would be so disappointed in you right now!”

“I _hate you_!” Stiles yelled, running up the stairs and slamming the door. John took a deep breath, grabbed his coat, and walked out of the house. He was fed up with Stiles' behavior recently. It was out of control, his son was out of control and he didn't know how to fix things. He would figure it out, soon, though. He had to. 

Nearly the minute he got to work, a call came in: there was an armed robbery. John felt his frustration build as he and the rest of his team went to take care of things.

*********

The phone was ringing incessantly. It was driving Stiles  _crazy._ All he wanted to do was sit in his closet and cry, yet the phone  _wouldn't stop ringing._ He crept downstairs to unplug and suddenly, a thunderous banging came from the front door. Stiles jumped, startled, before walking to the front door. He looked through the peephole and saw... Mrs. McCall? 

He pulled the door open and she immediately pulled him into her arms. “Oh, Stiles... I'm so sorry, I'm so, so,  _so_ sorry.” Stiles felt the woman's hot tears dripping into his hair, but he didn't know why. 

“What's wrong?”

“You don't know?” she looked shocked, tears still streaming down her face and making her eyes red and huge and blotchy.

“What is it?” Stiles asked, starting to feel the urgency. Something was very, very wrong.

“Oh, Stiles... your father...” she paused, hesitant, “Your father was shot during an armed robbery. He was proclaimed dead upon arrival at the hospital...”

Stiles pushed her away from him. “No. You're lying.”

She shook her head and tried to pull Stiles toward her again, but he jumped back. “Why are you lying to me about this?” He grit his teeth as he felt his heart start to beat rapidly, tears springing into his eyes. His breathing became ragged and he couldn't figure out anything anymore, he wasn't thinking, his lungs felt like soggy paper crumpling, ripping, dissolving. He wasn't sure if he was numb or if he was so emotional he couldn't feel anything.

“Stiles...”

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” Stiles slammed the door and ran back upstairs, crawling into his father's bed and inhaling deeply. He let himself fall into a panic attack, barely breathing and sobbing until he had nothing left.

***********

Stiles remembered getting to his feet. He left his house and walked, walked, walked. He remembered finding himself in front of a shabby house. It was the house where the local crazy lived, the one who claimed he could talk to demons and angels and resurrect the dead. Stiles didn't know his name, but he'd heard stories. He bit his lip, knocked on the door. A young man answered. “What do you want?”

“Do you... Do you know where I can find a crossroads demon?”

The man pulled him into the house, closing the door behind him. “Why do you want to find one of them?”

“Both my parents are dead... I didn't even get to say goodbye to my dad. We parted on really bad terms and I just.. I want them back.”

“Damn, kid. That sucks for you. Now leave.” The man began to push Stiles towards the door and he flailed wildly.

“What? No! C'mon, please help me! I'll do anything!”

The man paused. “Anything?”

“Yes, _anything!”_ Stiles felt hot tears begin to slide down his face as he couldn't hold them in any longer. 

“Come back here in four days at midnight. I'll be able to help you then.” With that, the man pushed Stiles out of his house. Despairing, Stiles turned and walked back home, unsure of how what to do anymore, how to cope... He wasn't sure if the man was even telling the truth. 

Stiles rattled around Scott's house the next few days, feeling lonely and unsure. He'd been staying with the McCall family since his father had died, because they were given custody in the will. The day finally came that Stiles was supposed to fix things, and he was even more jumpy and moody than usual. He was  _scared._ He went to bed early that night and waited until 11:30. 

He crept out of the house, being as stealthy as he could. He avoided car lights on the streets and pretended to be a ninja, hiding from anything that might be a person. He finally reached the man's house. He knocked and the door opened immediately. 

“You ready, kid?” 

Stiles gulped and nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything. The man seemed to understand and didn't speak to Stiles, merely gestured for him to follow. They walked down an empty street aways, turning onto a dirt one. After a bit, they came to a crossroad. The man turned to Stiles and lifted the club he was carrying, smashing it across the back of Stiles' head. Stiles immediately crumpled to the ground in a blackout. 

************

He blearily opened his eyes to total darkness, a smothering heat. “What?” he breathed out, slightly scared. He couldn't see  _anything._

“Vyacheslav Genim Stilinski,” a deep voice growled. 

“Who's there?” Stiles was beyond petrified. 

A clawed hand caressed his face, ran down his neck, gripped his shoulder. Reddish lights suddenly flashed on and he saw that he was in a dark cave area, fire and lava glowing around him. Screaming came off from the distance and Stiles shuddered. “Who are you?” he whispered. 

“I'm the crossroads demon that you're wanting to see,” the demon growled in its low voice. It came in front of Stiles and he screamed at the wretched sight. It was the size of a very tall man, broad yet skeletal. Flesh was dripping from the bone and blood poured out of its eyes. It was a product of the deepest nightmare and Stiles was so scared he wet himself. The thing smiled. “You want your parents back, correct?” 

Stiles nodded, entire body quivering. 

“Then you'll have to give me your soul.” 

“My... my soul?” 

“Yes, Vyacheslav. Sign this paper, which will give me your soul for eternity, and you shall get your parents back.” The demon handed the paper to Stiles. 

“What do I sign with?” 

The demon grinned and quick as lightning, grabbed Stiles' hand. The demon slashed the palm of Stiles' hand with a claw and Stiles cried out in pain as blood welled up. “Your blood. It  _is_ a blood contract, after all. Just smear your blood onto the paper, it doesn't need your signature.” 

Stiles shakily pressed his hand down onto the piece of paper and the demon cackled, snatching it from him. There was a sharp bright light and Stiles passed out again. 

******************

He woke up to the smell of pancakes. 

Following his nose, Stiles trotted down the stairs of his own house (why was he there?) several at a time. He walked into the kitchen to see his mother. “Mom?” 

“What's wrong, Vyacheslav?” she turned, looking concerned. She pressed a hand to his forehead and he blinked slowly, trying to remember why he'd woken up feeling panicked and scared. 

“I... I had a dream.. there was a scary demon in it, I think. And he wanted something from me, I don't remember what...”

“Oh, Vyacheslav. There's a reason I don't allow violent video games!” She turned back to the stove and finished making the food. There was a creak on the staircase as Stiles' father came down the stairs. Stiles had this aching feeling that something was wrong with this scenario, but he couldn't figure out what... He just felt like this wasn't real, this wasn't supposed to be happening. As he settled down for breakfast, though, the feeling dissipated. 

By the next day, it was completely gone, and he couldn't remember his dream at all. 

 


End file.
